To Kill A Mockingbird

My life long best friend was Timmy. We were as thick as thieves. He was born a year after me and lived across the road and three doors down. Timmy was small and blonde and breakable. He was like a wisp of smoke and I loved him with all my heart. Even though he was a year older than me, I was bigger and wiser and stronger. I guess you could say, he was the girl-one and I was the boy-one.

Timmy was just like the ethereal Simon in 'Lord of the Flies', the delicate Dill in 'To Kill A Mockingbird'. He was one of those rare creatures who saw the world through a magical gossamer. The most mundane of things, like the postman delivering the mail, became lit with a light of awe. He saw things in people, I could never see.

Timmy never got over my death. He lived another 8 years past me and finally was lost in a cloud of pills and despair and unfinished poems in New York City. He was far too fragile for this world. One mean word from someone would crush his bones.